Do you know who I am not going to talk about glowingly? Animal Collective. Their 2009 release, Merriweather Post Pavilion, was given the top spot on every Best of the Year list on every indie music blog I read except for one, who boldly reduced them to number two. I downloaded a few tracks months ago, and I have tried to like it. I tried so hard that I was bordering on neurosis. What is wrong with me? Do I have a soul? Why does it hurt my teeth to listen to this? I can appreciate experimental music. I like The Books and Akron/Family, two bands that some of my friends refuse to classify as music. I realize at least a few of you are shaking your heads while I make the auditory equivalent of standing dumbly at a Jackson Pollack: This isn't art. A five year old could have done it. Well, so be it. The optical illusion on the cover could be cool if it didn't serve to add to the pretentious message of the entire album: utter inaccessibility that accuses the listener of vapidity. Next time someone wants to subject music to an existential crisis, be innovative. Spare us. Say it with silence.
Music that will not hurt your teeth:
1. Fun.- All the Pretty Girls. A few months ago, I was sitting at a bar in Atlanta with my friend, Brittany. At the time, she was seeing a guy who was running sound for Fun. They were playing at The Drunken Unicorn and he suggested we go to the show, but we were camped out with Bloody Marys and declined. I regret this decision almost as much as I regret the time I ate a lemon Starburst while hanging upside down. This song recently won an Independent Music Award for best pop/rock song. If that weren't cool enough, one of the judges was Tom Waits. Lots of instruments. Lots of harmony. More fun than a noseful of candy.
2. Midlake- Bandits. Midlake just released a new album, The Courage of Others, this year. After reading reviews that said their previous release was their masterpiece, I bought the whole thing. It's gorgeous. I am so in love with this band, I want to write them letters with a quill feather by candlelight. I want to bake them cakes that taste like Jethro Tull. I want to pull up a log around whatever fire they've built in the woods and pass around a bottle of whiskey and name the shapes in the smoke. Pieces of this song are symphonic, then layered harmonies reminiscent of Crosby, Stills, and Nash build into a crescendo replaced by an electric guitar solo, and then back to one lone voice, a flute, and a story. I want to go weave something now.
3. The Magnetic Fields- You Must Be Out of Your Mind. Stephin Merritt is one of my favorite songwriters. None of his songs sound alike, but once you get the hang of The Magnetic Fields, you'll know one when you hear one. I'm partial to the three volume album 69 Love Songs about which Merritt has said, "69 Love Songs is not remotely an album about love. It's an album about love songs, which are very far away from anything to do with love." This song is from their latest album, Realism, released last month. This song is jangly. You'll be able to sing along during your second listen. That's not a bad thing. If you're unfamiliar with this band, and decide to venture into their catalog, be forewarned. You are going to think WTF a few times, in letter form. You will involuntarily clap your hands, grin, and think, “what the fuck?” in unabbreviated form. I dare you to close the curtains, put on, "For We Are the Kings of the Boudoir" and not do a Medieval dance. Not that I did.
Sufjan Stevens- Chicago. Paste Magazine named the album Illinois the best album of the decade. I am so proud of them for this. I have nothing against U2 or Radiohead, but seriously, lie down, Rolling Stone, and roll over. I picked this song because it is quintessential Sufjan, but this album is so good, he put out a whole other album of the outtakes from this album, and it is just as pleasing. Included are three other versions of this song: the acoustic version, the adult easy listening contemporary version, and multiple personality disorder version. There is a song on Illinois called, “They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back from the Dead!! Ahhhh!" Yes, I had to copy and paste that.
Deer Tick- Smith Hill. You’re in a small, unfamiliar town in Pennsylvania, just passing through, but not sure where you are going to end up. After hours on the road, you book a room at a motel with a neon vacancy sign. Next door is the only bar in town. Outside are motorcycles and trucks with American flags peeling from the bumpers. You walk in, sit in a booth alone. Bearded locals are drinking domestic draught with cherry pie at the bar. A yellow-skinned chain-smoking man is playing pool with a woman who has a faded tattoo on her calf. You stare out the window. Your beer arrives in a mug. This song comes on, and in unison, the bar patrons begin to sway back and forth, knocking their glasses together. The sorrow of it all becomes celebration. Everyone sings along. It is an anthem. When it’s over, you look away from the window. No one has moved, and you wonder if you were swaying back and forth, sloshing beer to your left and right, cheersing the stale air, and even if you were, did anyone notice?
Deer Tick- Friday XIII. Same band, only in this song the singer conjures Johnny Cash, if Johnny Cash drank a shot of Kevn Kinney on the rocks, and by rocks, I mean actual gravel. Liz Isenberg sings June to his Johnny.
P.S. I know it’s not Tuesday.
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